The Road goes ever on and on ...


















The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say. There are many books written in English which I consider being worthy to compose an essay about and thus it is quite difficult to pick just one. Lots of these have left a great impression on me and I have had a notion of reading them once more. But I have always failed to do so, since there has been a number of other titles waiting on my must-read-list, the ones that I have been either recommended or have read about somewhere and found interesting. However, there proved to be one exception to the rule. It was a piece of literature that stood out from all my previous experience, the one that had often come on my mind as a reminiscent of the values its author had shared with his readers which made me read it again and again. No wonder that this, in my view a masterpiece, had a great impact on my choice of the theme for the essay: this little treasure is called The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R.Tolkien.
I don't think there is any need to introduce this book, since it is well known all around the world and in recent years it has become familiar even with the reading public in the Czech Republic. As far as I know, it has won a very good reputation not only among the common people but it has also inspired other writers and artists in different fields of art. For this reason I would like to put my focus especially on Tolkien's aim for writing this famous oeuvre and afterwards I will try to give my idea of his message that he had left to the coming generations of both young and adult readers. But before I start, let me put down some important facts related to the author and his books that might enable us to acquire a better understanding of his writings.
It is essential to know at least this: Tolkien spent his earliest childhood in happiness, in a small and quit village Sarehole in the countryside where he lived with his younger brother and their caring mother. There he became acquainted with the beauty of the surrounding nature. Soon, he was deprived of the two things he loved the most. First of all, the family moved to noisy and industrial Birmingham and secondly, the only parent he had had, i.e.